


Nations in an Unholy Land

by Pixelfun20



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ;), Alternate Universe - Time Travel, America being America (Hetalia), Angst, Attempt at Humor, Badass Armin Arlert, Canada (Hetalia) is a Good Bro, Duh this is Attack on Titan, Gen, Hange Zoë Being Hange Zoë, JK I wrote this in like 2016, Oh Look a Hetalia Crossover in 2020, Protective Mikasa Ackerman, Watch some of the AOT/SNK characters for they are not what they seem, You don't need to know a lot about Hetalia to read this, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelfun20/pseuds/Pixelfun20
Summary: Do black holes usually show up in your refrigerator? Hopefully not. But to Canada, Finland, and I, well... it happened. Stuck in an apocalyptic future with no way way home, we find ourselves doing everything we can to help humanity survive, and figuring out how to stop the apocalypse when we get home. This is our story, (mostly) in the form of a recording, told 10 years later.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), America & Finland (Hetalia), Armerica (Hetalia) & Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert & Ymir, Finland & Canada (Hetalia), Hange Zoë & Levi & Erwin Smith, Italy & Finland (Hetalia), Mikasa Ackerman & Armin Arlert & Eren Yeager, Sasha Blouse & Connie Springer
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ahaha... I might regret posting this.
> 
> Hey, an Attack on Titan/Hetalia crossover in 2020?! Could it be?!
> 
> Alas, it is not so! I wrote this four years ago in a notebook, wrote an estimated 50k-60k words, and then forgot about it. And it is a shame, because I liked the storyline and put over a year of work into it. So when I found this while deep-cleaning my room (thank you quarantine!), I started typing it up for my progeny, because this is definitely what they should see.
> 
> So yeah. The chapters might be a little off because I wrote it years ago, but I think it's pretty good still and hope you like it! Please read&review!

The room was cold and dark, bare stone walls sucking all of the scarce heat and light into its core. There were no windows, and a single, heavily fortified wooden door stood In the center of one of the walls.

Suddenly, the door opened, unoiled hinges creaking in the freezing air. A single person, rather short, at 5'4, and with a slim figure stepped into the empty room. They were covered in a loose black cloak, obscuring all other features of the personage. They held a single raw candle, which did little to light the stone walls. A bag was slung over their shoulder.

The cloaked person looked over the room briefly, then closed the door behind them and walked to the center of the room. Now in a better position to light the room, his candle illuminated strange markings chalked onto the floor.

The design's perimeter outlined a simple circle, but upon closer inspection, showed the opposite. What at first seemed to be a solid circle a couple meters across revealed that the circle was full of a much more intricate design. Swirls, lines, and dots flowed together in harmony, fitting together perfectly inside the circle. Also prominent were two rings inside of the circle, creating a blank space in the middle of the circle, making it look more like a ring.

The figure walked around the circle with a practiced ease, sweeping the room with a thorough gaze. Looking satisfied, the person visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping. They reached up, and with one swift motion, pulled back their hood.

A boy of fifteen, with sky-blue eyes, sighed as he knelt on the floor, setting down his candle and taking off his bag. Shaggy blond hair fell in front of monstrously thick eyebrows. He sported a small scar on his left cheek, a small nick near his ear. His eyes, though, sparkled with a wisdom that went far beyond his young age. Opening his bag, the boy shuffled through its contents before pulling out a used old notebook and a stub of chalk before closing it again. The boy flipped open the notebook, turning the pages until he stopped at a page near the back, full of scribbled notes and sketched diagrams.

After consulting the notebook for several moments, the blond teen grabbed the chalk and started adding even more designs to the circle, occasionally rubbing off an addition after glancing at his notebook again. This continued for around a quarter of an hour, the teen continuing to work with a diligence unusual to that of his age. The silence was only broken once when he accidentally erased a line already in its correct position, eliciting a storm of curse words.

After a time, the door's mechanisms sounded again, and the teen jumped, hand brushing past his cloak to finger an old nineteenth-century styled pistol strapped to his thigh.

The wooden door cracked open, and two men strode inside, both wearing uniforms. The first was a Spanish man at around 5'10, with thick wavy blond hair and piercing hazel eyes. He wore an open brown jacket with a white button-up shirt underneath. White pants matched the color of the shirt, with black boots that reached his knees. Emblazoned on his jacket was the insignia of two criss-crossing wings—one white, one navy blue.

The other man was shorter than his companion, at 5'7. He had reddish-brown hair with a lone curl sticking out of the side. He wore the same uniform as the Spaniard, except that his shirt was green. He gave off a distinct Italian air.

The blond teen relaxed upon recognizing the men, and stood, removing his hand from his gun.

"You're late," he scolded sharply. "You gave me quite a scare when you didn't arrive on time, I thought the MPs had caught you for sure."

"Sorry, Peter," the Italian responded sheepishly, waving his hands in a surrendering motion. "Commander Pikale kept us in late; he needed some help with the new recruits."

"Whatever," Peter shrugged as he walked to meet the pair, careful not to step on his circle. "Where's Gilbert and Lilli?"

"I don't know?" The Italian responded. "Honestly, knowing Gilbert, he's probably got them caught by now."

"You know he wouldn't do that," the Spaniard responded. "Gilbert's one of my oldest and closest friends, can't you trust him like I do? Besides, Lilli wouldn't let him get into trouble either way."

As if on cue, the door opened once more, and the trio's heads snapped up as two more people entered the room. The first was a woman. The smallest person in the room at 5'2, she was surprisingly intimidating despite her stature, with coarse, chin-length blonde hair and pure blue eyes. She wore a long-sleeved black dress and white boots, and looked to be in her early twenties.

The second man was an albino, with silver-white hair and blood-red eyes. He was definity the most casually dressed in the room, wearing a black vest over a white polo and tan slacks. At 6'0, he was the tallest, and held a wide grin on his face.

"Hey~!" the albino announced arrogantly. "The awesome me has finally arrived!"

"Shut up, Gilbert," Peter and the woman snapped in unison. Gilbert rolled his eyes in response.

"You guys are so unawesome," he muttered. Ignoring the man, the woman, Lilli, turned to the other three men.

"Sorry we're late," she apologised. "So, can you really do this, Peter?"

All eyes turned on the youngest in the room, who shifted but answered confidently.

"Yes. I've been researching this for almost three decades now. It _has_ to work. It will go correctly."

"So you can do it," the Italian, Feliciano, remarked, phrasing it more like a statement than a question. "Maybe now we have hope."

Peter nodded.

"So, the only question is who's going," Lilli announced, looking around the room. "You're the oldest out of the five of us, Antonio. What do you think?"

The Spaniard, Antonio, thought of a moment, then answered: "Definitely you, Lilli; we all know your… _talents_. And Peter doesn't even need to be debated. And then, one of us three." He turned to Gilbert and Feliciano.

The albino stepped forwards, puffing out his chest. "Then I'll go!" He announced confidently. "This team is in need of my awesomeness!"

"No," Lilli stated firmly, almost burning off Gilbert's hair with a well-placed glare.

"We need someone who can mediate the situation," Antonio cut in placingately, giving Lilli a stern look. "And anyways, Gilbert, you… stand out… in a crowd. One look at you and any of the other nations will either become suspicious or think you're Prussia. And—" he cut off Gilbert as he opened his mouth to protest. "Remember your situation with the Military Police. It's precarious as it is. We need you here."

The albino looked like he was going to insist on coming anyways, but then the rebellious light died in his eyes, and Gilbert nearly put his head in one hand and sighed, suddenly looking very vulnerable and depressed, a complete opposite of his earlier attitude.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't be letting my personal opinions get in the way of things."

Lilli looked at Gilbert in surprise. Obviously, this reaction had been unexpected from him.

"We should be the ones apologizing," Feliciano finally spoke up after a few awkward moments. The Italian walked up and grabbed Gilbert's forearm in a gesture of shared grief. "I know we both wanted to see your brother again. But," he took a shaky breath, seeming to make a tough decision, and let go of the albino's arm and turned to Antonio. "You should be the one to go."

The Spanish man looked up in surprise.

"What?" He exclaimed. "But I—"

"Am perfect for the job," Peter interrupted, stepping forwards. The flickering candlelight gave him an eerie look. "Think about it, Antonio. As you stated earlier, Gilbert can't go without the risk of getting caught, and no offense, Feliciano—"

"It's fine. I know my weaknesses."

"But there is little chance he could keep his composure around Romano, Italy, Germany—anyone, really."

"But what about Spain?" Antonio protested, starting to look almost desperate.

"Your appearance can always be changed," Peter shrugged. "And your experience with thugs and the black market will be invaluable to us."

Antonio sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Fine," he relented. "What do we need to do?"

Peter's eyes flashed in momentary triumph, knowing he had won, before the teen turned around to pick up his notebook.

"Stand in the middle of the circle," he commanded with a spark of anticipation, before adding: "And don't you dare touch my lines! We need them to be in perfect position for this to work."

Stepping forwards, Antonio studied the circle and it's center for a moment, where there was a small patch of bare ground. Smirking to himself, he took a few steps back before racing forwards and leaping into the air, landing perfectly in the center.

"You are such a show-off," Lilli muttered, who was left to weave through the lines of the circle on her own. "Stupid military training."

After the teen made her way into the center (thankfully not ruining any of the lines), Peter nodded to Feliciano and Gilbert, who were now standing off to the side, near a wall, and copied Antonio's stunt, landing with only a slight stumble.

"Good luck!" Feliciano called, voice trembling only slightly to betray his nervousness. Gilbert gave a half-hearted salute, which only Antonio returned, nostalgia brimming in his eyes as the two old friends remembered a time long past.

Clearing his throat, Peter stepped in between Antonio and Lilli, and flipping his notebook to a different page, began to chant in a foreign language. After several seconds of anxious waiting, the blonde teen stretched forth one hand to the circle at a 45 degree angle, the other still holding his notebook firmly. The lines in the circle begin to glow and eerie gray, light beginning to peek through the lines and swirls that decorated the rune circle. A slight breeze picked up, despite there being no windows to open.

Then, suddenly, the light exploded from light gray to white, nearly blinding the occupants of the room. The breeze picked up into a full-fledged wind, circulating around Lilli, Antonio, and Peter. Feliciano and Gilbert were suddenly hard-pressed to keep their balance against the abrupt gale.

"Peter!" Lily screamed over the wind, hair whipping into her face. "This isn't part of the plan!"

"This isn't supposed to happen!" The teenager shot back, switching to English only momentarily before returning to his chants, obviously trying to remedy his mistake. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated on trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

Antonio swore briefly in his native language and gritted his teeth, raising an arm to steady Lilli. The Spaniard looked in worry at little Feliciano, who was now holding on to Gilbert's arm, trying to stay upright.

Cracks shot through the walls, and the building groaned under the pressure. It wouldn't be able to stand up against much more punishment.

With an avalanche of swear words in multiple languages, Peter stopped his chanting, cloak whipping around his body. He had given up.

"It's no use!" Gilbert shouted, eyes wide. "Turn it off, Peter! Forget getting caught, the whole building is about to come down on us!"

"I can't!" said teen replied, beginning to panic. "The spell's gone haywire!"

"Hurry!" Antonio cried out, stepping into the wind, towards Gilbert and Feliciano. "We need to stay together!"

Circle discarded, the two teenagers followed their elder's lead wordlessly. The cracks in the walls spread, chunks of rock now starting to fall from the ceiling. Antonio, Peter, and Lilli finally made it to Gilbert and Feliciano. The group of five huddled together, even as the support beams started to come down.

Suddenly, Peter's eyes snapped open in remembrance, and he stretched out his hands towards the collapsing ceiling. Right as the building came down on top of them, he desperately screamed out one word, and the rocks stopped falling.

It was over, though, and the five knew it.

Their last resort had failed.


	2. In Which a Fridge Becomes an Interdimensional Portal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever get the chance I'm rewriting this chapter

******Note: This story is told in the form of a recording, in that the main characters are recounting their story into a recorder. This story has been transcribed into a written document so it can be shared as a story. As a result, there are some phrases that are spoken that don't belong to the story as a whole, and will be indicated as such:**

~(Words)~ Canada/Matthew speaking

_~(Words)~_ America/Alfred speaking

**~(Words)~** Finland/Tino speaking

~(Words)~ Belgium/Laura speaking

~(*Words or Action*)~ Sounds or Multiple People Speaking

* * *

Canada/Matthew:

I sighed, hugging Kumamira to my chest as the World Meeting progressed. Biting my lip, I checked my watch.

10:23. 37 more minutes until lunch break.

Everything was going like normal. That is to say, the two men who had raised me, England and France, were fighting again. This time, England had France in a chokehold, while the country of love was mourning the loss of his wonderful hair. Next to me, Spain kept on trying to feed Romano tomatoes, which the latter flat-out refused. On their other side, Italy was ranting on and on about the wonders of pasta to Japan, who was listening politely, in a never-ending cheer.

Opposite me, Russia was once again bullying the Baltics, asking them to "Become one with Mother Russia, da?", while Belarus was watching over her brother with an obsessive look in her eye. To their right, the Nordics all sat in a group; Norway was joking Denmark with his tie, Iceland was messing around with his puffin, and Finland looked near the point of falling asleep, while Sweden poked him every once in a while to keep him awake. Sealand—don't ask how, he always found a way in here—was bouncing in his seat.

"Ha ha!" America laughed obnoxiously from his position to my immediate left. "Get him, Iggy!"

I winced from Alfred's loud voice in my ear. Sometimes, I just have to wonder how we're even related, much less the probability of us being brothers, despite the fact of how alike we look. The universe just loved to laugh at me, I supposed.

_~(Hey! I take offense to that!)~_

~(Shut up, Al! This is my chapter!)~

_~(Don't forget to explain everything—Ow!)~_

~(I'm getting to it!)~

But anyways. Basically, everything was in total chaos.

"Everyone, SHUT UP!" A voice thundered throughout the room, making all of the Nations—except Russia, of course—jump. England instantly separated himself from France, albeit reluctantly. Those two loved to fight.

Kind of put a damper on my younger years, honestly.

Calmly, I looked to the head of the table, resting my chin on top of Kuma-whatever's furry head. Predictably, it so happened that Germany had snapped first. The blonde male stood at the table, beginning to tell the same speech he gave at every meeting, about how "We are all nations and are needed to solve the World's problems, not fight!" I ignored him.

"Who are you?" Kumacheerio asked curiously, tilting his Pitch Black polar bear eyes on me.

"I'm Canada," I replied happily, responding to our little joke. "The one who feeds you."

So, yeah. Kumajirou is my talking pet polar bear cub who's lived for a couple hundred years. And yes, this isn't your imagination. And believe it or not, I am much, much weirder.

My name is Matthew Williams, the personification of the nation of Canada. I'm over 300 years old, and I'm barely out of childhood, according to England.

Yes, I can hear you laughing. Seriously, China is over four thousand years old! And England is just over one thousand.

So… yeah. Each person in this meeting room represents a country or an influential territory. We live as long as our country survives (except Prussia. I have no idea how he's still around, and his only explanation is that he's too awesome to die. Not that anyone is complaining), and we feel whatever goes on in our lands, whether it'd be in the government or the effects of a natural disaster.

Even we don't know how we exist. My best guess is that all the energy from a country and its people has to go somewhere. Maybe that's why.

But no one really cares at this point.

Anyways. So we are all gathered in one place. Grudges and everything. Think about it.

No wonder Germany's practically crazy. I would be too, if I was the only person who actually tried to make these World Meetings productive. I had given up decades ago, since no one notices or remembers me anyways. The curse of being one of the more peaceful Nations in the room. And the one who's always forgotten.

"Hey, Matty!" America nudged me with his elbow. "Want to go to get lunch together after this is over?"

"You should really be listening to Ludwig," I whispered back, referring to Germany's human name. Despite my answer, I felt the warmth in my chest at him remembering me. It was one of the perks of having the "hero" as your brother—he never forgot me, unless it was, like, April Fool's Day or something.

Only France can make the same claim.

Tuning Germany's lecture out, I glanced outside the windows to see the light snow storm outside the Meeting House. I was hosting the world meeting today, which was why we were here in Vancouver. It was nice to not have to fly several hours to get to a meeting for once, I reflected.

"Yeah, but he's so boring!" Alfred whined, and I looked at him and sighed, letting my breath hiss out in between my teeth. My brother was using his puppy dog eyes again.

"Fine," I gave in with a groan. "As long as it isn't McDonald's." How one of the biggest superpowers in the world could give ear resistible puppy dog eyes, I'll never know.

"I just don't eat fast food, you know!" America huffed, offended, while pulling out a burger from who-knows-where and starting to eat it noisily.

I facepalmed.

_Americans_.

And as Germany began his debriefing about the situation in the Middle East and ISIS's rise (according to America, they are just as bad as that communist bastard. if he's comparing them to Russia, you know Alfred doesn't like someone), I found myself blinking away sleep. I have been up late last night paperwork, ugh and terrorist groups halfway across the world didn't seem that important at the moment.

I had just dozed off into a dream involving blueberry Eggo waffles and water balloons (long story), when, suddenly, the scene changed.

_I was in a military uniform, an automatic rifle in hand. My muscles ached from overexertion, and I could feel a half-healed wound throbbing painfully in my chest. But I paid it no heed. I couldn't risk stopping._

_The air and sky were clogged with smoke, the sunlight that manage to filter through vintage red. I struggled not to cough with each labored breath that I took. It was at least 37 degrees Celsius outside, and sweat slickened in my hands, making it harder to hold my gun._

_Washington, D.C. was burning. Half destroyed buildings were up in flames and debris littered the street, making it difficult to run like I was trying to. My feet slapped the street as I ran, trying not to shiver at the sight._

" _Hurry!" I cried to the last two remaining men from my regiment. The two Canadian soldiers were following me, eyes wide with fear, but moving with a confidence that came with years of training. I felt a swell of pride, looking at them. These were my people. They had fought so well and I felt so terrible for having failed them. We are almost there!_

_Turning my head to face back ahead again, I heard guns going off not too far away. And there were a lot of them, too, like an entire squad had decided to shoot machine guns at the same time. Which they probably had. I knew then that I had made it to the right place and felt a sickening relief rush through me, though I winced slightly at the assault on my ears._

_I reached the end of the street if you could even call it that and immediately took a left towards the sound. My Two Soldiers obediently followed, and then we entered a clearing. The rush of relief left through me again. We had made it._

_Well, not really, actually. There was just less debris there._

_Anyways, a perimeter of soldiers had been set up around the area, holding machine guns, grenades, and, heck, some even sported rocket launchers and flamethrowers! As my men and I raised towards the scene, the soldier closest to me sprinted forwards greeting us with a relieved look._

" _General Williams!" He called out, barring a distinct American New Yorker accent. "You're alive!"_

" _Barely," I gasped. "It's just me, Tulock, and Barner now. The rest didn't make it out. Where's my brother?"_

" _We had him leave several days ago," the man responded. "Well, made him is the better term. He refused to leave us, so we sedated him and shipped him off."_

_I nodded, glad to hear the news. It was too dangerous to stay here any longer. The American Soldier seemed to think the same._

" _Hurry!" The soldier waved to us inside the perimeter. I noted the men were protecting an iron gate, which was showing some signs of the wear and tear of war. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow at the sorry sight. Nodding, I followed the American Soldier to the gate. I then finally looked inside, and sighed._

_Inside the gates, behind what must have once been a beautifully tended Garden, stood the ruins of the White House._

_Right as we passed through the gate, the guns erupted it into fire once again. I turned around, and suddenly I was very glad that I had made it inside when I did._

_Trudging through the demolished, burning buildings was a giant. A Titan, to be exact. It was a 10-meter class, taking the form of a man but having lost his sanity long ago. This one had a bloated belly, inhumanly thin arms, and anime large eyes. It wore no clothes but had no genitals, and had a cheshire cat grin. The soldiers opened fire on it, but I knew that the bullets would do little to nothing against it, only serving to annoy and slow it down._

" _Shit," I growled, turning back to the White House. "It followed us. Won't be long until it's reinforcements arrive, if the Marley have anything to say about it."_

" _We'll be able to hold them off for a little while," the American replied. "At least long enough for you to get out of here."_

" _And what about you?" One of my soldiers asked. "Where will you go?"_

" _We've already decided," the American soldier replied, leading us to the right side of the White House._

" _You're staying." I realized what these men we're going to do._

_We turned over to the side of the White House and I noticed a small plane, the kind that doesn't need much room to lift off, stationed there._

" _Yeah," the soldier replied. "All of us here are single—we sent off anyone with family a long time ago—and most of us have nothing else left to fight for. This place is all we have left to protect."_

_We finally stopped at the foot of the plane. The door opened, obviously for me, but I didn't focus on that just yet. These men were going to be signing their death warrants with these beasts around and their backup coming soon. But there was nothing I could do about that. My respect for my brother and his country rose. No wonder he had become a superpower so quickly. With people like this, it would be hard not to._

"Mattie…."

_I let out a long sigh at the New York man, wishing against all odds that I could have saved him or his comrades. But I shoved that feeling down, and saluted._

" _I will make sure that you are remembered," I said. The American smiled weakly, and saluted back._

" _And we will protect the house of our fathers to our dying breath," he replied._

"Matthew!"

My eyes snapped open and I gasped, suddenly in control of my body again. The meeting was over, most of the nations having already left. America was standing over me, eyes full of concern.

_~(Wait! Dude, you never told us about that last part! Deep, man.)~_

**~(Mine was worse.)~**

~(Will you two just be quiet! And please don't join sides with Alfred, Tino!)~

"You okay, dude?" My brother asked me. "You fell asleep and started mumbling to yourself. Something about Titans or whatever."

"It's nothing," I said, maybe a bit too quickly. I grabbed Kumajeep into my arms and stood up. "Just a nightmare. I-I'm going to get something to eat!"

And with that, I bumbled out of the meeting room, leaving a very confused Alfred behind, and dashed out into the hallway, barely keeping myself composed. My breath came and panicked gasps. That nightmare, whatever in the world it was, still had my heart beating too fast to stay with America, especially with the demolition of his capital still so fresh in my mind. Nevermind how my imagination could come up with such a nightmarish scenario.

"Who are you?" Kumaface asked. For once, I ignored him.

I rushed down several flights of stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Finally, I entered the second floor lobby, where I turned into a hallway, took the first door on the left, and entered the employer's lounge—which was thankfully empty, due to it being a Sunday.

Suddenly, I was very grateful I was hosting the world meeting. This was where I worked on a daily basis; I knew this building like the back of my hand. I let out a long sigh, letting Kumaflipper crawl out of my lap—most likely to forage for food. I think all of my co-workers leave out a bowl of food for him at this point.

I put my head into my hands. "What a nightmare," I muttered. "But it was only a dream. Why am I so worked up?" I shook myself. "Maybe some tea will help calm me down."

My mind made up, I stood up once again and headed to the cabinet to grab a tea bag. As I went through the familiar motions of making the beverage, I found myself immediately starting to calm down, my heartbeat returning to a semi-normal pace.

Making tea was an ingrained habit from my days with England. It was the only food he can make without poisoning the consumer, and I picked it up from him. Now it was more of a common thing to do when I was stressed.

After several minutes, I heard some people coming down the hall, their footsteps echoing into my little sanctuary. Voices also made their way through the door and into my ears, and I couldn't help but stop and listen, despite the fact that I knew I was eavesdropping.

"Stop it, Berwald! I'm fine!"

I blinked, surprised to hear Finland's voice. He must be with Sweden. The two were always together, as they were very close friends. Sure enough, the heavily accented voice of Sweden filtered through, in a soothing yet worried tone.

"T'no…"

"I'm fine!"

Despite myself, I snorted. No matter what he said, Tino certainly didn't _sound_ fine. His voice had what was most likely an involuntary stutter to it, and he sounded panicked. In fact, he sounded just like how I had felt just a couple minutes earlier.

"Pl'se, jus' c'lm d'wn"

Sweden's voice filtered in once again. A short pause followed for Finland finally burst:

"Just leave. Me. Alone!"

I started. Even though I didn't know Finland very well, it was popular knowledge among our community that he was usually very calm. He _never_ shouted like that. For something to rile him up so bad that he shouted at Sweden, his closest friend… I just didn't want to know what had happened.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Tino rushed in, white as a sheet and shaking, into the room. His eyes passed right over me, as usual, and he quickly shut the door behind him, sliding down against it until he was sitting on the floor, putting his hands into his face and sighing loudly.

I felt very awkward. Tino obviously hadn't seen me in plain sight as he had stormed in. But, well I was right here…

"Um, hi," was the introduction I decided on.

Finland jumped almost a full foot into the air, yelping. Suddenly, his eyes focused on me, and he turned whiter, if that was even possible.

"When did you get here!?" He exclaimed, placing one hand on his heart.

"I've been here the whole time," I shrugged. "You just didn't notice me. A lot of people don't."

"Oh well," Finland scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Sorry about storming in like that. Did I disturb you?"

"It's fine," I replied, turning back to my tea, which was now boiling in the kettle. "I'm making tea and have enough for two. Want some?"

" What kind?"

"Herbal. Don't ask exactly what, I didn't look."

Finland shrugged and sat down in the chair I had just been using as I poured two cups, taking his silence as a yes. I sat down next to Tino, who gladly took the hot drink from my hand. The 22 year-old (appearance-wise) set it down the cool, then collapsed into his arms.

"If I may ask," I began, not wanting the pry but curiosity taking the better of me. "what happened? Last I checked, you and Sweden were on really good terms."

Finland groaned. "Oh, I'm going to have to apologize to him for that," he sighed. "I really didn't mean to snap like that. I just, ah," he blushed slightly." Fell asleep during the meeting."

"Don't worry," I replied. "Greece sleeps through these things all the time."

"But he's _Greece_. He's always like that."

I snickered, and Tino managed to small chuckle at the joke, some color returning to his cheeks. That was good. The guy was practically looking like a ghost.

"But then," Finland continued, managing to take a small sip of the still scalding tea. I copied the motion. "Everything changed. It was a nightmare, but it felt more like a vision. Scared the hell out of me."

I had enough sense not to push any further. I was still shaken up by my own nightmare.

I started at the thought. Tino and I both happened to fall asleep at the same time and both of us had a terrifying nightmare that scared the crap out of us.

Could there be a connection?

"You're Canada, right?" Finland inquired, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yep," I replied happily. No one ever remembered my name after I told them, much less before. "But you can call me Matthew."

"Yes." A nostalgic look appeared on his face. "I remember. You're America's brother."

I nodded, opening my mouth to ask about the similarity in our dreams, but the door abruptly smashed open, effectively cutting me off before I even began.

"Dude!" America burst into the room, waving a folder in the air. "Why did you leave in such a hurry?! Took me forever to find you. You left your paperwork on your desk, you know!"

I blushed, realizing what my brother was saying was true, and Finland nodded formally to the American, politely introducing his presence to the superpower.

"Hello, America," he greeted. Alfred blinked, looking at Tino as if he had just noticed him sitting there.

"Oh, hey Tino!" He welcomed with a grin, closing the door behind him. "You know what's wrong with Berwald? I haven't seen him so worried since World War II!"

"Oh no," Tino sighed, leaning back and running a hand through his pale blonde hair. "I'll have to apologize for snapping at him. I really didn't mean to."

Alfred snorted, dropping my folder in my lap. "You're going to have to do a lot more than that, man. If looks could kill, Spain, Prussia, Denmark, Iceland, and I would all be dead!"

Tino banged his head on the table a couple of times before standing up.

"Well, I better go before Berwald really does kill someone," he explained, excusing himself. "And knowing Denmark, it'll probably be him. It was nice seeing you—Matthew, right?"

"Mm, okay," Alfred shrugged as I nodded, too happy that feelings had remembered me to reply. "You better hurry; Denmark was going after Sweden last I saw. Got any Cokes, Mattie?"

"In the fridge."

"Bye," Tino called, opening up the door. At the same moment, America opened the fridge.

Things happened very slowly from that point onwards, and I would remember them for the rest of my existence.

"Hey, are you supposed to have a black hole in here?" Alfred asked, so nonchalantly that I thought he was just joking. I didn't have time to reply, though, before a hurricane level wind abruptly sprung up in the room, spilling my tea all over my paperwork.

Then America fell into my refrigerator.

Well, almost. He was still gripping onto the side. Just barely.

"America!" Tino and I called at the same time in alarm, racing towards the superpower. I ran to the fridge and gasped when I saw what was inside.

The inside of my refrigerator was gone, a black void sucking up everything around it replacing it. My hair whipped around my head, getting into my eyes. Distantly, I heard Kumamira crash into something.

It was nearly impossible to wrap my mind around the absurdity of it.

Then Alfred, superhuman strength and all, lost his grip.

What I did next I did on complete instinct, and what happened afterwards would change our lives forever.

I lashed forwards, grabbing America's wrists and was pulled in as well, unable to find a good foothold in time. Tino lunged after me as I fell, and he gripped my ankles tightly. However, Finland, even with his own impressive strength, couldn't hold on for long, and soon fell in with us. The light from the break room disappeared, and soon I was surrounded in a pitch black, swirling vortex.

I don't remember most of my time in the void. It was a very difficult experience to get my head around, and it still is. For one thing, it was extremely chaotic. At one point, I remember a part of my pants ripping and Tino screaming as he was separated from us, out of sight within moments. Then, America pulled my smaller frame into his slightly larger one, wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug.

Then the void disappeared, replaced with blue skies and the chirping of birds. Wind whistled next to my ear. I looked down, trying to figure out what in the world had just happened, and found myself screaming.

We were free falling. America was crying out as well, saying something frantically over the wind, but I couldn't tell what it was over my panic.

Had I been in any other situation, the scenery below me would have been very beautiful. I was falling into a forest, it's spring green leaves lighting up the ground.

But I gave no more thought to the scenery than I did to the wind as America and I crashed through the canopy, leaves and branches whipped past my face, leaving light cuts wherever they struck.

Suddenly, Alfred shifted his hold on me to one arm, the other lashing out to grab something that I couldn't see from my position. Abruptly, we began to skid to a stop, before dangling around 20 meters above the forest floor.

But we weren't done yet. We were now falling in a careening arc, going faster and faster by the moment. I blinked, and looked to where we were falling, and found myself thinking:

_Why is that tree getting bigger?_

Then something struck the back of my head and everything went black.


	3. Italy Tries to Kill Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, it would be nice if AO3 let me keep my formatting

~(Words)~ Canada/Matthew speaking

_~(Words)~ America/Alfred speaking_

**~(Words)~ Finland/Tino speaking**

~(Words)~ Belgium/Laura speaking

~(*Words or Action*)~ Sounds or Multiple People Speaking

America:

Pain.

Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain.

Oh, did I mention I was in pain?

Okay. Mattie says I need to actually tell you what happened.

So… yeah. We were falling to our very eminent almost-deaths (nations, remember?), which was, of course, completely and utterly terrifying. How was I supposed to know Mattie had a black hole in his refrigerator—Ow!

~(Very funny, Alfred. Now tell the actual story.)~

_~(*Raspberry noises.*)~_

So, I was panicking as we fell through the canopy. One branch cut my cheek, which stung painfully. As we fell, a flash of silver suddenly caught in the corner of my eye. It was some kind of cord, glinting the mid-afternoon light.

_Wait,_ I remember thinking. _Isn't it noon?_

Yes, Matthew, I have a weird set of priorities. Now shut up.

Anyways, my survival instinct took over and I grabbed at the cord. At the rate we were following, however, we continue to drop, the metal burning and peeling off the upper layers of my hand and part of my arm. I bit back a cry of pain as we finally began to slow.

However, fate wasn't done with us yet, and we arced to the right, rushing towards a tree. I barely had time to brace myself for the impact, much less warn Mattie in time. Barely being able to turn my back to the impact, Mattie was knocked right out, and the breath smashed right out of my lungs. My brother's body slackened in my arms, abruptly even more dead weight than before.

I groaned, now hanging motionlessly above the ground. I was pretty sure I had skinned the palm of my hand alive. Blood began to trickle down my arm, sticky and hot.

Deciding to ignore that particular problem for the moment, I grunted, swinging my legs as I tried to get some traction so I could move. I dug my legs into the side of the tree trunk, noticing a thick branch sprouting out about a foot to my right and three feet or so below me.

Grunting, I walked sideways on the tree to the branch, arms aching from holding Mattie and the cords at the same time. Silently, I thanked the last decade for inspiring me to start going to the gym again. As I neared the branch, I glanced around us.

My eyes widened. We were in the middle of a forest of massive trees, each rising about 160 or 200 feet in the air. Their branches were also huge—the one I was aiming for was about six feet thick.

Shaking my head—I could think about all of this crap later—I found myself now over the branch. Silently thanking my years of military training once again, I lowered myself onto it, collapsing onto the wood with a large release of breath.

Wincing, I held my bleeding hand to my face for inspection. It was mangled pretty bad. There was blood everywhere, and it burned like I just stuck my hand and melting iron again.

Long story.

I glanced over at Matthew, using my uninjured hand to situate him next to me, leaning on the tree trunk. Assessing my brother, I found that he looked just fine, not counting the trickle blood oozing from his head. I hoped he didn't have a concussion from hitting that tree so hard. That would be a problem.

With his health out of the way, I quickly tore off part of my pant leg and used the cloth to bandage the palm of my injured hand crudely. It's stung like the dickens, but I managed to knot it with the help of my teeth.

With that part over with, I took a long look at our surroundings.

Just where in the world were we?

Well, we certainly weren't in Vancouver anymore. The trees were way too tall to be normal; only my redwoods in California could match their height and width, and they certainly weren't that kind of tree. Not to mention that it was afternoon, though it wasn't even midday back at the World Meeting.

"Hello?" I called, glad to go around to try and find any traces of human life. Predictably, no one answered.

Giving up on that endeavor, my eyes landed on a second cord, identical to the one I had grabbed, and looked up to its source, confused as to why it was out here in the middle of nowhere. Not that I was complaining, but I was curious. The top of the cord ended in some kind of grapple, so I didn't recognize its design. Raising my eyebrows in a self asked question, I looked down.

And promptly emptied the contents of my lunch onto the ground below.

You see, I have a pretty iron stomach, being through so many wars. I've seen people blown to bits by a cannon. I've seen plenty of men shot in the head and gutted by guns, and more than my fair share of suicides.

But nothing could prepare me for what I saw at the end of that cord.

It was a woman—or at least, what was left of her. The entire left side of her head, neck, and chest was just… gone. I won't get into too many details, since I don't want you to throw up like I did, but let's just say that's the gore was enough to make 300 year old men like me want to cry for their mommies.

Don't you dare laugh, Mattie.

She was suspended about 10 meters in the air by the cord, which entered a holster on her hip. There were two metal boxes, about two feet or so long, right below the holster. Attached to the boxes by a cord were two not-really-but-kind-of swords. The boxes, I noted, held blades similar to the one on the sword. She wore an unfamiliar military uniform, and leather straps alternated across what remained of her body.

It was no question that this woman had died fighting.

But for who and what?

Discarding the questions, I quickly looked away from the corpse, breathing heavily as I wiped the last bits of my mess off of my mouth.

_Note to self,_ I thought. _No more looking down._

Then Mattie, from his spot next to me, groaned, turning his head to face away from me, and moved no more. I looked at him anxiously, but he didn't stir any further, escalating my worries for how badly he'd been hurt. Shouldn't he have woken up by now?

However, I had no more time to think about my brother's health.

Abruptly, a large "crash!" echoed through the forest, and I scrambled my knees, hand on Mattie to keep him from falling.

A whooshing sound came not long after, followed by loud thumps and screams, and the hooves of racing horses came next.

And after them, the flying men.

When I was little, I had always wanted to fly. As a colony, I had asked England if I could do so. _Only if you go wings,_ he had replied.

So I did.

Planes for always my escape from reality. During World War II, I was in the Air Force instead of the traditional place of a nation, in the Army. If I may say so myself, I'm a crack pilot.

So forgive me if I was mesmerised by the soldiers. They wore the same uniform the corpse below me had on: two emblazoned swings, one white, one navy blue, were on their jackets. They flew gracefully, gas propelling them through the air, moving too fast to make out any details.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers screamed, and I jumped, regaining my senses and pressing Mattie's limp body into the tree, trying to camouflage myself into the tree trunk as much as was humanly possible, though my bomber jacket and Mattie snow fitting outfit didn't exactly help our cause.

Still, though, I couldn't help but peek around the trunk to see what had made the soldier cry out.

And almost lost my lunch again.

A giant, just shy of 50 feet tall, was taking a large bite out of the unfortunate soldier who must have screamed, blood running down its chin. It was all disproportional, with an enlarged gut and thin, wispy legs, and wore no clothes, but had no genitals to cover. That, at least, was a relief.

But there was no question who had killed the woman below me now.

However, the soldiers didn't seem to be half as shocked as I expected them to be. In an instant, they were all on the beast, swords glinting in the afternoon light. Several people flew in front of the giant, and a couple swung towards its back. I watched in a mixture of awe and fear as the giant tumbled towards the men in front, hands outstretched like a child reaching for a toy.

I then concluded that the giant was an idiot. That was a bit of a relief.

A flash of wiring caught my eye, and I noticed a soldier rushing towards the back of the Giants neck. Though I was too far away to make out the details, I noted that he had a small, lean frame with reddish-brown hair.

Kind of reminded me of Romano, in fact.

Anyways, the soldier, in a flurry of steel swords, ripped out the nape of the giant's neck, it's blood splattering onto his clothes and into the air. The giant collapsed, dead, on to the dirt floor, and the squad was off again, out of sight within mere moments.

I blinked. Everything had just become so freaking weird! The giant's corpse, lying on the ground, was steaming heavily, having already begun to decompose into dust, vaporizing into the air.

Deciding to ignore that merry little fact, I sighed, turning around and closing my eyes, and leaning back against the tree. Oh, man. Iggy wouldn't be happy about this fiasco. At least he couldn't blame me this time, though! I wondered what he was thinking right now. Was he worried that I never came back with Mattie from lunch? Would he be searching for me once he noticed that I was missing?

Would he even care?

I laughed quietly. Well, Russia wouldn't miss me, that was for sure. Dirty communist. And China would probably go through my wallet, since I owe him so much money. Japan would most likely be his usual stoic self. Lithuania would be freaking out when I didn't return, though. That made me feel a bit better.

If worse came to worst, I reasoned with myself, then Rhode Island and Ontario could take over our positions as Nations until we made it back.

I refused to think of the real worst scenario:

What if we never got back?

The quiet _shing_ of a blade quickly snapped me out of my thoughts, however.

My eyes snapped open and I jumped. Looking down, I saw a sword dangerously close to my neck. Mentally, I groaned at my idiocy. How had I missed this?!

I forced down my frustration, though, and took a deep breath, looking over to Matthew. However, he wasn't there. I immediately started to panic, despite my earlier efforts to say calm. And his place was the soldier who had killed the giant. Looking closer, I noted that he had auburn eyes, cold as ice. His reddish-brown hair fell in bangs on either side of his face. A lone curl stuck out of the side of his head. In fact, he was a spitting image of...

"Italy?!" I exclaimed. The soldier's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he took the sword away from my neck.

"Sir?" A female voice called out, and I started. Looking about, I noticed the whole squad from before was here. The one who had spoken was a ginger-blond haired woman, accompanied by a large man with black hair slicked back to a point, and a woman with red hair pulled into pigtails and green eyes. In the man's arms was Canada. "Who is this man? Is he friend or foe?

'Italy' gave me a long, hard look, and I shivered. This definitely wasn't Feliciano. Italy was happy, cowardly, and he loved pasta, but most of all, he was way too trusting of others. This man, however, was none of these things.

Well I couldn't be sure on the pasta part, but really, did he look like the type to be—ow! Matthew!

~(Story, Alfred.)~

"What's your favorite food?" Italy asked. I blinked.

"What?" I replied, now completely confused.

"Favorite. Food." He had a distinct Italian accent, I noted.

"Homemade barbecue."

"Family?"

"Uh, Matthew over there is my younger brother. I have two adopted older brothers, Francis and Arthur." I felt it was best to tell the truth to the guy who looked as if he wanted to slit my throat and be over with it.

"1939 to 1945. What happened?"

"World War II."

"What change to the Solar System came in 2006?"

"Pluto became a dwarf planet."

"2004 Olympics?"

"They were in Athens, Greece."

"September 11th, 2001?"

I winced slightly. "9/11."

"How did you defeat radical Islam?"

"Excuse me?" That war was still going on, thank you very much.

"2020?"

"What? It's 2007!"

Italy sighed and sheathed his blades, sliding them into the odd boxes on his hips.

"Friend," he announced the other three, of which all except the redhead looked completely lost, even more than I was. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not.

"You three go on ahead," the Italy look alike commanded. "Take Matthew to the carts. Let no one except the commander know that he's here. Got it?"

"But sir—" The auburn-haired woman started.

"That's an order, Petra," Italy interrupted. "Isabel, lead the way. We'll catch up later."

"Yes, sir!" The redhead did an odd kind of salute, fist bumping over her heart, before she was swinging off, the unnamed man following and Petra leaving last, sending me a suspicious look.

The atmosphere the three left us in was tense. I looked at the Italy lookalike, who regarded me tonelessly. Finally, I broke the standoff by standing up on the tree branch and asking

"Three main questions. Who are you? Where are we? And how in the world did I get here?"

Italy smiled at me, his teeth cold and unforgiving.

"Well, I believe question one is obvious," he began, raising one finger. "You know quite well who I am. Unless you really are that hamburger-loving idiot you made everyone else think you were."

"You're lying." No way. This man was not Italy. Nuh-uh. No way.

And no, I was not in denial, Matthew!

"Mm. Believe what you wish, but I am Feliciano Vargas."

"But—"

"Two," Italy interrupted, holding up another finger. "You are in the Oil Forests, just southeast of Trost District, Wall Rose, in Titan territory."

"What?"

Italy blinked, then sighed. "Of course you don't know where that is," he muttered, and before I could reply, continued. "You are just northwest of Oxford, England. And—" he pressed on, ignoring my spluttered surprise. "Don't go looking for Oxford. It doesn't exist anymore. Oh, and don't mention the names and places of people from your time, unless you want to experience a very long and painful death."

I just stared at Italy. What? We were in England?! That was halfway across the world from Vancouver! And Oxford didn't exist? The hell?! Don't mention places or names from my time? Death?

Wait.

I viciously backtracked through my thoughts.

"My time?"

Italy's smile turned into a smirk. "About time you figured that out," he replied. I suddenly felt very small. A part of me was viciously denying the fact, but I had a gut feeling that Italy wasn't exactly lying.

"Feliciano." My mouth was dry.

"Yes?"

"What day is it?"

"March 23rd, Year 847. Or in your timeline, sometime in the mid 2100s. I've lost count at this point."

I stared at him, mouth a gate. The 2100s. That was, like, 150 years in the _future_!

Kind of reminded me of all those time travel movies that I made all the time.

That thought helped me calm down a bit. After all, the hero always made his way home in the movies. On the other hand, Italy wasn't lying, that was for sure. Thanks to the NSA and CIA, I was practically a human (well, nation) lie-detector when it came to people that I knew. And I knew this man. Imposter or not, this man wore Italy's body. Maybe some alien had taken him over?

But, for my peace of mind, I settled with the idea that this really was Feliciano, at least for now.

"So…" I finally spoke up again. "You seem really calm about this. The people from a century in the past usually interrupt your military operations?"

"Do you usually travel 100 years forward in time?" Italy countered, not missing a beat. "And as for your question, yes, we expected you. Eventually. But here? No. Now, of all times? Well, we should have considered it, considering when exactly your friend arrived here."

"Friend...?" I trailed off, before facepalming so hard I left a mark on my face (I know, Italy told me later). "I am such an idiot! Tino! Oh, god, have you seen him? He was with us at first, and then we got separated! Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Italy replied. "Trust me, I would know if it were otherwise."

"Where is Finland?" I asked. "Oh, man, I hope he's not hurt. Sweden would kill me if he got injured!"

Something flickered in Italy's eyes, an emotion that I couldn't identify, it before was snapped under the mask once again.

"Come." he waved a hand, gesturing for me to come. "We need to get back to camp before the Titans are attracted to our scent."

"Okay~," I trailed off, just absorbing the weirdness of it all. "How are we going to get there? The ground isn't exactly safe at the moment."

Feliciano's face contorted into one of sight amusement.

"Isn't it obvious?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. "I carry you."

* * *

I have to admit, experiencing 3D maneuvering gear for the first time was completely exhilarating. We soared dozens of feet above the ground, swinging in between the trees with a practiced ease that could've only come from years of experience. Wind whistled past my ears and burnt my eyes, making me blink away reflexive tears.

I probably could have appreciated the experience more if I wasn't so distracted by the fact that Italy, the weak, cowardly, pasta-loving nation, was carrying me. Without effort! It put me off, not even counting how he had been acting since I had ended up in the... future... Well, my brain was still in partial denial about that part.

At one point, another Titan, as Feliciano had called them, emerge from the trees. It was much smaller than the one I had watched Italy and his teammates kill earlier, probably about 15 or 16 feet tall. Italy regarded it calmly before simply turning around and looping about a bit before we left it in the dust.

"You seem to have experience," I remarked after that little episode, tightening my grip as Feliciano made a particularly sharp turn.

"I would hope so," Italy replied curtly. "One has to be good to survive as long as I have."

"How long have you been surviving, exactly?" I questioned, the idea popping into my head, now seeming quite obvious. "And where is all the technology? Shouldn't we have, like, hoverboards and floating cities by now?"

"It's kind of a long story that I don't feel like explaining right now," Italy replied curtly, slightly out of breath now. "Why are you so heavy?"

I silently took back my earlier thought of Feliciano being superhumanly strong as the Italian continued.

"To be… brief," he huffed, landing on a branch and turning to the left, before taking off again. "The Titans appeared around the years of 2009 or 2010, killed everyone, and trapped us in here. We lost all of our technology, were thrown back into the 19th century, and have been fighting the Titans ever since."

Frankly, that left more questions than I had started out with, but I shut my mouth. Better to let Italy focus on getting us back to his camp.

~(Wow, Alfred shut up? It's a miracle!)~

_~(Laura? When did you get here?!)~_

~(A little while ago. You are a very interesting story teller, Alfred.)~

**~(Back to the story, you two.)~**

_~(Sorry, Tino.)~_

The last couple minutes passed in relative silence as I tried to process the information. Italy swung through the trees, and I spent the time just trying to figure this all out, especially the last 15 minutes (definitely the oddest in my life. And that's saying something). I hoped that Mattie was okay. Hopefully, he hadn't woken up while being carried this high up in the air. And I really hoped that Finland wasn't hurt. Injured!Tino=Angry!Berwald, and Angry!Berwald=Dead!Me. No joke. There's a reason they're close.

**~(Shut up!)~**

~(Haha!)~

Suddenly, the tree line ended, and Italy paused, stopping at the last tree and landing on one of its branches, letting me off to see the world outside of the giant forest.

The sight of the world outside the forest—a post-apocalyptic England, I realized, even if the trees were a bit bit—was both terrifying and beautiful. The plains outside were a vibrant green, the sky the purest blue I had ever seen since before my industrial days. The setting would have been breathtaking if the deserted town to our left didn't ruin the image. It was completely abandoned, buildings having been torn down and overgrown with ivy and weeds. To Feliciano's previous claim, they seemed to have come straight out of the 19th century; no technology in sight.

I tore my eyes away from the deserted village and looked left and right. As expected, there was no one in sight. I noticed several titans off in the distance, but nothing else moved. Truly, this was a ghostly land.

"Why did we stop?" I asked, confused, as Italy walked past me and checked the position of the Titans.

"Think about it," Italy replied. "Honestly, can't you infer anything?" He ignored my huff of offence and continued. "19th century technology equals 19th century clothing. You'll stand out like a sore thumb if we just walked into camp now. My squadmates can keep Matthew away from prying eyes, but we don't have the advantage of numbers with you."

"So…?" I began the question, but then quickly backtracked, wanting to answer that myself. "Wait. So... You're going to get me new clothes."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Italy's face.

"At last, we're getting somewhere," he answered. "Yes. Your outfit has to go. A good third of our rookies dies on their first mission. One of their spare uniforms is bound to be in your size."

"A-a whole third?!" I exclaimed, too caught up on that little fact to pay much attention to the last statement. "On every mission?!"

"There is a reason we can't drive out the Titans," Italy responded, still unnervingly calm. "Or why the UN—we, I suppose, it's odd referring to myself as a country after so long—lost the Third World War in the first place. They're just plain hard to kill. Heads blown off their bodies will regenerate within minutes. I assume you saw me slay that Titan when you first arrived?"

I nodded numbly, still trying to process all of the new information.

"That's the only spot where the titans are really vulnerable," Italy traced the nape of his own neck with his fingers, marking the spot. "1 meter wide, 10 centimeters thick. And we didn't even figure that out until we were long inside the walls. That was around 70 years ago, and the information didn't even become public knowledge until around 15 years after that."

I stared at the ground, a good 60 feet below me, in shock.

"We didn't even know…" I mumbled, trailing off at the end of my sentence. "It must have been a massacre."

A look of extreme pain crossed Italy's face, the first major emotion I'd seen from him in the last half an hour. It was so odd, seeing him like that. Sure, the Italy from my time _did_ get sad, but it was more of a pitiful distress than anything. This expression of his was so unnatural on him, it took me a couple seconds to process it. By then, though, it was long gone.

"It was," Italy whispered, staring blankly out into the countryside.

The atmosphere was both tense and awkward at the same time. We just stood there, silent, until Italy shook himself out of the stupor.

"I'll be right back," he announced stiffly, almost embarrassed, and jumped off the branch, using his 3DM gear to swing as a blur on the edge of the forest, then into town, where he promptly disappeared.

I stared after Italy.

"What happened to you?" I found myself asking quietly under my breath, as if Feliciano was still standing next to me.

What had happened, indeed.

Italy, though being over 2,000 years old, was one of the cutest men you could ever see or meet.

~(That sounded weird.)~

_~(Shut up, Laura! You know what I mean!)~_

~(Our listeners might not.)~

_~(Matthew! Not you, too!)~_

I didn't mean that in a weird way. The others forced me to say that. And now the mood is ruined.

Great.

Anyways. Italy was always optimistic and silly, couldn't since the atmosphere to save his life—

~(Sounds like someone I know.)~

_Ahem_ , and was a coward every sense of the word. An irresistible flirt and inescapably friendly, he was the soul unhated nation—Canada, you don't count, you're never even _noticed_!—when the World Meetings came along.

But this Italy was his present counterpart's opposite. Serious and intimidating, he showed no emotion—at least, he tried to—and was more sociopathic than Soldier-General-whatever-position-he-was-in.

Something had happened. Something, or some sequence of events, had been so traumatic that Italy, of all people, closed himself off to the world.

Sighing, I shook the depressing thoughts out of my head and checked my hand. It had already bled through my rough bandage, but was steadily healing, and at the steady rate of a usual nation's at that. I let out a silent breath of relief. Nation healing powers—check. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, expanding my mind. Sure enough, over 300 million Americans responded, flickering like lights right outside my mindscape.

The almost nauseating sense of relief that swept through me almost made me fall off the branch. Apparently traveling through time hadn't severed my connection with my people and land.

Still immortal! America: 1, Universe: 0!

Now all I had to do was contact Delaware and get him to ask England to find a way to magic me back, and—

Nope. When I tried to open the link that mentally connected me to my eldest son, state, whatever, it felt like I was being blocked. My thought was sent out, but it simply slowed until it stopped completely. I swore under my breath.

America: 1, Universe: 1.

I waited on the branch for about ten more minutes, trying and failing to contact Delaware and my other states, before Italy came back, this time holding a bundle in his arms. I looked over to him as he landed.

"You seem to be deep in thought," he remarked, raising an eyebrow in a silently asked question.

"I can't contact Delaware," I replied. At Italy's confused expression, I elaborated. "My states are personified, remember? I'm usually able to contact Delaware telepathically, but I can't right now."

"That's no surprise," Feliciano responded.

"But I can sense my people. They're more static than anything, but I can still feel them."

A flicker of shock passed through Italy's eyes.

"You can?" He asked in disbelief, then pinched his nose and laughed to himself. "I shouldn't be surprised. I guess I just forget that Tino's a nation too, sometimes."

"Yeah…" I trailed off. "When can I see Mattie and Finland, anyways? Where is Tino?"

"He is here," the Mediterranean nation responded. "And once you put on this uniform, we can get going and stop wasting time here—" He thrust some folded up clothes at me. "We can get going."

I took the outfit, but fingered my jacket, reluctant to part with it. It was my lucky charm. I'd had it since World War II, and it had seen me through thick and thin.

"Do I have to get rid of my jacket?" I asked. " 'Cause I am not leaving this."

Italy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Knowing you, I won't be able to convince you to give it up, however easier that would make things. Fine, keep it, but it's your problem."

I cheered quietly to myself and set to work, Italy turning away as I changed. The clothes took me a little while to figure out, since I hadn't worn clothing like that for well over a century, really took me back, but I was done in a couple minutes, the clothes that I had previously been wearing— except my jacket, which was bundled up in my hands—in a pile on the bark. Italy nodded at me in approval.

"You look exactly like a soldier," he remarked. "Good. Let's get going."

"Yeah," I agreed. Italy kicked the remains of my 21st century clothes onto the ground below and motioned for me to climb onto his back again.

As I did so, yet another question popped into my mind.

"Who survived?" I asked. "Ethnicity wise, I mean."

"A lot from the UK, obviously," was the reply as Italy jumped off the branch and into the air. "Around half or so are native here. A surprising amount are German. And another good portion are Polish, Dutch, Swiss, and Danish. Around 1/8 are Italian, Balkan, American, Canadian, and French. Some minorities are Russian and Spanish. Japan has only two citizens, last I checked. Most people here are mixed from interbreeding, though."

My eyes widened in shock, and I almost lost my grip on Feliciano, though looking back, I should have expected it.

"Human population?" My voice was the whisper.

"Not sure. I mean, there could be other survivors outside the walls, but we have no means to contact them. People here in the Walls, though—get used to the term, by the way, there are no countries anymore—is about 1 million."

The rest of the trip was silent.

* * *

"Here we are." Italy spoke the first words in since our conversion at the edge of the forest as he landed me behind the building. Having maneuvered into the deserted village I had seen him enter earlier, we were now right outside of what I realized to be the Military's (for what else would Italy be allied to?) camp. Already, I could hear men shouting and the neighing of horses.

" Remember, Alfred," Italy instructed as I hopped off of his back, looking at me sternly. "You know nothing of this world. You will have time to adjust once we get inside the walls—"

_I really should ask him what that i_ s, I thought.

"But for now, speak only when spoken to. I will answer most of the questions. Say nothing. Don't goggle. You created Hollywood, right? Act like it. You are a soldier who lost his gear while fighting the Titans. I had to come back to get you. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" I replied, saluting. Best to get into the act right away.

"Oh, that reminds me." Italy took my right hand and removed it from my forehead. Ignoring my look of confusion, he curled it into a fist and placed it over my heart.

"New salute," he explained, performing it himself flawlessly. "It means that you are willing to dedicate your heart and life for humanity's sake and survival."

"Oh," was my reaction.

Italy rolled his eyes and turned around, beckoning me to follow.

"Come on, burger boy," he instructed, ignoring/not seeing my eye twitch in annoyance. "We have to get to the carts. That's where all the supplies are, and where we'll hide you."

He walked out of the alley we had landed in and into Main Street, if the old street signs were anything to go by. The buildings themselves were in a horrible state of disrepair, covered in moss and plants with a good portion in the process of crumbling to the ground. Set up in what probably had used to have been the Market Square was a company of about seven or so wagons and about five times as many horses.

As we entered the perimeter, a soldier jogged up to us. She had short brown hair and looked to be Canadian.

"There you are, Feliciano!" She exclaimed, stopping her run to walk alongside us. "The Coporal was about to send out a squad to go search for you!"

"I'm fine," the Italian ex-nation responded easily, waving a hand, though he stiffened almost imperceptibly at the word 'Corporal.' "Alfred here lost his gear while fighting a 15-meter class. I had to help him get back."

The Canadian's expression turned sympathetic as she turned to me, the three of us stopping our walk for a moment.

"Wow," she remarked. "I understand how you feel. That must have been terrifying. Anyways, I'm Nifa. I don't think we've met before. It's nice to meet you."

I took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Alfred," I responded.

"Nice to meet you, Alfred," she smiled, before turning around. "Anyways, I better get back to the Corporal and let him know you're here!" With that, she ran off, disappearing around a cart.

"Corporal?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Long story," Italy answered shortly, continuing on.

"What was the purpose of this Mission?" I asked after a minute. Italy shot me a glare.

"Quiet!" He hissed, and I felt my teeth 'clack' together at the sound of his voice. Scary. Not a word I ever thought would describe Italy.

The rest of our walk was spent in silence, me trying not to be too discreet in my analysis of the camp.

It was impressive, to say the least. Honestly, when I had heard that we were back in the 19th century, I was thinking of the unhygienic kind of disorganized camps that were common back then. However, it seemed that the people hadn't lost their sense with their technology. Soldiers rushed to and fro with purpose, knowing exactly where they were going and what they were doing. Men patrolled the rooftops, likely on the lookout for those Titan things. Distantly, I heard the shouts of a squad fighting the beasts.

Walking briskly, Italy led me past most of the carts. They reminded me of the covered wagons my people used to take while moving West, except instead of a family's belongings, they held gas, food, and other war supplies, some of which I couldn't identify.

Finally, Italy led me to the last cart in the line. There were a lot more people here, each one nursing one injury or the other. Feliciano walked past them all without batting an eye, moving to the medical cart, as I then recognized with a jolt. It was kind of obvious with the sterilized smell coming off of it and the injured troops. With a breath of relief, I saw Canada, being dressed by Italy Squad in a uniform.

"Mattie!" I cried, running forwards, ignoring Italy's exclamation to stay silent, and leaped over the wagon edge to sit next to my brother, before wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug. "You're awake! And alive!"

"Losing... air…" Mattie gasped, and I reluctantly loosened my grip on him. My brother took several deep lungfuls of air, trying to catch his breath.

"Sorry…" I apologized. Mattie punched me. "Ow! Sheesh, I said I was sorry!"

One of the women—the redheaded one—chuckled, and I turned to her.

"Oh!" The auburn-haired lady exclaimed, sending a look to the redhead. She seemed to have calmed down slightly from her previously hostile demeanor. "We haven't introduced ourselves to him yet! Don't be rude, Isabel!"

The redhead rolled her eyes at the auburn-haired woman, but answered anyway. "You are such a stiff neck" she cheeked, before turning to me and sticking a thumb at herself. "I'm Isabel. Isabel Honda."

I blinked and surprised her name. Honda? _Probably a coincidence,_ I rationalized to myself.

"Petra Ral," the auburn woman introduced herself. "Pleased to meet you."

"Gunther Schultz." The large man said with a grunt.

"Don't run off like that!" Italy ruined the good mood as he entered the wagon. He didn't look very happy with me. "I swear, you are infuriating!"

"Wait," Canada murmured into my ear so that only I could hear him. "Is that Italy?! What the—"

"Long story, I'll tell you later," I cut him off. Mattie fell silent, effectively shutting his emotions off of his face.

~(See, Al? That's how you act.)~

_~(I hate you…)~_

"You three," Italy gestured to Isabel, Petra, and Gunther. "Go find Tino. He should be back by now. Bring him here and tell no one that these two have arrived except Erwin."

"But sir," Gunther spoke. "The Military Police—"

"I don't give a damn what the MPs think," Italy interrupted harshly. "They can all die in a hole for all I care. This is a private matter, you three. You are not authorized to ask questions."

Mattie stiffened from his spot next to me, likely from shock. I glanced over at my twin, mentally asking him to hold in his questions until the other soldiers had left. Thankfully, he got the message and relaxed.

"Where is Tiny, anyways?" Isabel asked. "I didn't see him on the way out here."

I stiffened a chuckle at the nickname, shoving down my fears for the Nordic nation. He was perfectly fine. He had to be.

Italy shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "Erwin had him in the right wing, but he could be anywhere by now. Just ask around, you'll eventually find him. Or news of him."

"Yes, sir!" The three saluted. Isabel flashed me a brief smile, and then they were gone, off to find our lost friend.

"Okay," Mattie said as soon as the trio was out of sight. "Where—and when—in the world are we? Some alternate dimension?"

I smiled. "Well, there's a reason why Italy is completely out of character…"


	4. Finland, America, and Canada: The Time-Travelling Trio!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 STOP RUINING MY FORMATTING
> 
> ...On another note, thanks for all the attention this is getting! Every kudos/comment makes my day :)

~(Words)~ Canada/Matthew speaking

_~(Words)~ America/Alfred speaking_

**~(Words)~ Finland/Tino speaking**

~(Words)~ Belgium/Laura speaking

~(*Words or Action*)~ Sounds or Multiple People Speaking

* * *

Finland:

**~(So… Um... Hi, Finland here! Now, my story is a bit more complicated than Canada and America's. As in extremely confusing. How am I going to start this? I didn't really think this through.)~**

~(Just start on the expedition, and go from there.)~

**~(Oh, that makes sense. Thank you, Laura. You listeners are probably wondering were I am, anyways. Well, this is what happened…)~**

"Oulo Bossard! How many times do I have to tell you not to talk while riding a horse? This is the third time this month you've nearly bitten your tongue off!"

I rolled my eyes, snapping my gas canisters into place with a _click_ as Lynne lectured Oulo for biting his tongue in the middle of an expedition again, though at this point I didn't know why she even bothered. Oulo didn't take anyone seriously except for Levi, even me.

Still though, today's expedition had gone pretty well. The 51st Expedition outside the Walls had succeeded in its mission: refueling the town of Woodstock. Before the fall of Wall Maria, it'd been a significantly sized village that produced timber. Now, it was just a stop on the "highway" the Survey Corps was paving to Shiganshina. Off to my right, Mike and Nabana, together as always, were moving food crates to one of the abandoned buildings. Behind them, in one of the wagons, Gelgar was double-checking the supply, to make sure no insects or rot had taken hold on our trip here.

Ignoring Lynne and Oulo as they began to fight, I lifted another crate and began to follow Mike and Nabana into the building, grunting as I did so. I was going to have a word with whoever decided to make these crates so heavy.

"Are you sure you got that?" Mike asked. I glanced over at him, just able to make out the top half of his head over the crate, and nodded back.

"I got it!" I called back to my second-in-command. "I didn't become a squad leader for nothing, you know!"

And don't look at me like that, Laura! I was a good squad leader. My troops didn't die.

_~([CENSORED])~_

~(*"Alfred!" Is shouted in unison from the rest*)~

~(I'm so censoring that. Way too many spoilers.)~

~(Eerlijk gezegd, Amerika! Have some restraint!)~

_~(What?)~_

~(*Groaning*)~

 _Anyways_ , my squad was one of the best, right after the Special Ops and Squad Hanji. I was squad leader, as I said before, and Mike Zacharias was my second. His wife, Nabana, Oulo Bossard, Nifa Ransan, Gelgar Bennett, and Lynne Mykeer made up the rest. Speaking of Nifa…

"Hey, has anyone seen Nifa?" Gelgar called out from his place in the carts. "I haven't seen her since we made camp."

Grunting, I struggled to look past my crate and back to my squad member. Really, what made military rations so heavy? At this rate my back was going to give out on me.

"Levi called her over a little while ago," I replied, setting down the crate with the rest inside the house and popping my back. "He was saying something about finding that 'Italian pain-in-the-butt before I throttle him to death.' His words, not mine."

"Wow, little Feli got lost again?" Lynne remarked. "At this rate he's going to get himself kicked off the Special Operations Squad."

"Don't say that in front of Feliciano," I warned her, returning to the rest of the team. "Not unless you have a death wish."

"I know," Lynne shrugged. "But seriously, I feel for The Corporal, having to deal with that on a daily basis."

"They aren't great terms, are they?" Oulo said, voice slightly muffled from his injured tongue.

"No," I sighed. "No, they're not."

"Squad Leader! I'm back!"

Speak of the devil. I looked up with the rest of my team to see Nifa jogging over to our position. She didn't look too winded, though, so she wouldn't have been running for too long, which was a good sign.

"There you are!" Gelgar shouted. "About time, too! Stop slacking off and help me!"

"You found Feli?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow at the smaller woman. "So soon?"

Nife shrugged. "Apparently one of the newer recruits lost his gear, and Feliciano was helping him back. I didn't leave camp before we ran into each other."

"So he does have a heart," Lynne remarked, before yelping and ducking behind Oulo as I shot her a glare. The soldier tsked, folding his arms. Everyone in my squad knew that the occasional jesting the was so common in the Corps was alright, but there was a line that wouldn't be crossed in my squad. Lynne seemed to have forgotten that for a moment.

"Who's the new recruit," Nabana asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that particular topic.

Again, Nifa shrugged. "I haven't met him yet, that's for sure. It was some kid named Alfred."

I froze, eyes widening. Alfred… I hadn't heard that name in years.

"What did he look like?" I questioned, trying my best to hold in my excitement and hoping against hope that this wasn't one of the universe's cruel jokes.

Nifa blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "Um… I dunno, I didn't pay that much attention if I'm honest. He had blond hair and this weird cowlick, and glasses. Why?"

I ignored her question, slipping off my 3D gear as I prepared to leave. "Where was Feli taking him?"

"To the carts, I think. Why are you—?"

"Mike, you're in charge!" I called, cutting her off. I did my best to ignore how the rest of my squad was looking at me in surprise. "I gotta go!"

Before anyone could protest, I was off, sprinting through the plaza. An involuntary grin spread across my face. Finally! I raced towards the other side of camp, dodging several soldiers and supply crates before the carts came into sight. Excitement welled up in my chest. This was it!

"Hey! Tiny!" I skidded to a stop, turning towards the familiar voice to see Isabel walking towards me, smiling, as per usual.

"What is it?" I asked, impatient to go and find Feliciano and his companion.

"Feli wants you," she replied, crossing her arms as I thanked the gods above for happy coincidences. "He's at the medical cart and says it's important."

"I know!" I replied with a grin. "Nifa told me. I'm heading over right now!"

After what seemed like forever, I finally reached the medical carts. Vaulting over a stray box of supplies, I reached the carts, only to find a very familiar sight with an unfamiliar participant.

Feliciano had trapped America in a headlock, a look of fury on his face, while the latter was turning a pale shade of blue. Canada, a bandage on his forehead, was frantically trying to separate them, all while doing his best to keep the commotion to a minimum.

I couldn't help it. The scene was too hilarious to keep quiet about. I burst into laughter, holding my stomach as I attempted to reign in my amusement. Upon seeing me, Feliciano scowled and let America go, who immediately started gasping for air and massaging his abused throat.

"Very funny, Tino," the ex-nation muttered, looking at me lowly.

"Sorry," I gasped. The apology was hardly past my lips when I was bowled over by a large mass, nearly sending me flying out of the cart altogether.

"Dude!" America exclaimed, crushing me in his iron grip. "Are you alright. We lost you while in that black-hole-thing, and my god, Sweden's gonna kill me…"

"I'm fine," I ground out, trying to politely wiggle out of the superpower's grip.

"He won't be if you keep on crushing him in that grip of yours," Canada observed, rather wisely, and America immediately released me. I massaged my chest, making sure none of my ribs had cracked.

"Thanks," I replied, happy as soon as I had confirmed that I was just fine. "It's so good to see you again! What happened to you?"

"Well, we lost you in the black-hole-thing," America reported. "And then we popped out like 200 feet above ground level. I managed to grab a cord of—what was it called again?"

"3D Manuvering Gear," Feliciano supplied, annoyance seeping even further into his voice. America, as always, was oblivious to the fact.

_~(Hey, I'm not that bad!)~_

~(What about the time [CENSORED])~

**~(You too, Matthew? I thought you'd be better than your brother.)~**

~(Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to.)~

 _~(Either way, I_ can _read the atmosphere, I just don't choose to!)~_

~(*Short pause*)~

**~(I… can't find fault with that. I'm just going to continue narrating now.)~**

"Yeah, so I did that," America continued, and showed off the palm of his right hand, which was still red and blistered from the abuse it had endured. I winced in sympathy. Ouch. "And ended up hitting a tree. Knocked Canada—"

"Matthew," Feliciano corrected.

"Mattie right out. And then bam!" Alfred slapped his good hand on his knee. "This titan wandered by, and Italy and his friends went right up to it and sliced its neck right off and killed it! Then Italy tried to kill me before he figured out who I was and we kinda just ended up here. Then, when Mattie woke up, I was telling him what happened and then _someone_ ," he sent a pointed look at Feliciano, who glared right back. "Started choking me."

"He called me insane," the Italian grumbled to himself, crossing his arms.

I sighed. "You can't just kill someone because they insulted you, Feli!"

"This is _Alfred_ we're talking about."

"Exactly!"

I facepalmed. One problem at a time. "Aren't you needed with the Special Ops Squad?" I said, changing the subject. "Go back to your team, Feli, I got this."

Feliciano muttered some choice Italian phrases about Americans under his breath, but did as I suggested, ducking out of the cart and out of sight a moment later. As soon as he was gone, I reached forwards and tugged Alfred's ear as hard as I could, which was very hard indeed.

"Ow!" The younger nation exclaimed, yelping as I gave his ear another tug for good measure before releasing it. "Dude, what was that for?"

"Don't. _Ever._ " I shot back, pointing my finger accusingly at him. "Call Feliciano insane. You're lucky I didn't actually let him kill you."

"I'm sorry!" Alfred responded with a huff. "Sheesh; I didn't expect him to react like that. Italy's never been like that before."

I sighed, calming down slightly with the revelation that he had acted in ignorance, before sitting, motioning for Alfred and Matthew to do the same. "This is a good time to tell you guys one of the most important things you need to know while in the future," I began. "And Feli is a good example of that."

"What is it?" Canada asked, looking worried.

"Any country you meet here—especially ones like Feliciano—are not the same people you knew back in 2007." America looked like he wanted to ask a question, but I held up a hand, silently asking him to wait, and pressed on. "Every single nation you meet has been stripped of their status as a country and has lost a lot of people they care about. The 'Italy' you just met? He's lost Germany, Japan, France—everything, really. Almost all of them died in the war and he was left alone. For a while he had your future self, Alfred, and Antonio, but then you disappeared and Antonio died, and now he only has me. In a lot of ways, he _is_ clinically insane, for what is a nation without their culture and people? But we usually don't talk about that."

Alfred and Matthew stared at me, and I wondered whether I should have gone a bit easier on them. There was no way for them to know, after all. Nations are usually such static creatures, but I had seen first hand how the other nations and even I had gone through while trapped here.

"My future self?" Alfred asked after a moment. I winced ( _probably_ should have saved that for later), then nodded.

"Both of you survived the war, and made it here," I explained. "Or so I've heard. You two were the only ones to escape from the New World. For a while, Alfred, you served in the Survey Corps, and you, Matthew, joined shortly after. You bother were quite famous, actually. Feli told me once that you guys were worth an entire army when you worked together. But one day, a few years before I arrived—" I spread my hands helplessly. "You both just… disappeared. Matthew turned in resignation letters without so much as a goodbye and, well, that was the last anyone heard from either of you."

"That doesn't make any sense," Alfred protested, incredulous.

"If anyone has, they have yet to come forwards."

"Wait…" Matthew held up a hand. "Tino, you're acting like you've been here for years. I know you got separated from us while in that portal—"

"Black hole," Alfred corrected, and got a flick to the cheek for his efforts. "Hey! Ow!"

" _Portal_ sucked us in, but wouldn't you have arrived within a few minutes of us?"

I shifted. The dreaded question had finally arrived, and quicker than I had hoped.

"Tino?" Alfred asked, growing worried.

"Don't feel bad when I tell you, alright?"

"How long have you been waiting for us?" Matthew asked softly.

I rubbed the back of my head.

"Approximately 55 years."


	5. In Which We Meet a Man with True British Eyebrows

“Fifty-five…” I trailed off, shocked. “What?!”

Finland shifted uncomfortably. “Ehe~ The tricky part of ending up outside of the space-time continuum,” he remarked. “You never really know when or where you’re going to end up. Sometime during the trip, when you two got separated from me, I got thrown a good 70 years or so into the future. It appears you guys were pushed 55 years further than me.”

“Did you know when we would arrive?” Matthew asked, leaning forwards. Tino shook his head.

“No. I had no idea.”

“How did we even get here, anyways?” I added in, glancing at my twin. The question had been eating at me for a while, and I was sure it had been bothering him, too. 

“A haywire spell, apparently,” Tino replied, smiling in a sort of morbid amusement. “Sealand—Peter—is still alive in this time. He, Italy, Spain, Japan, Prussia, and Liechtenstein tried to go back in time, you know, to stop the titans. The thing is, England… well, England didn’t make it, and neither did Romania or Norway, so he had nothing to go on besides what he figured out himself. Naturally, the spell went haywire, and instead of bringing them back it time, it…”

“Flung us into the future,” Mattie finished, putting a hand up to his chin. “Or perhaps made a one-way connection with the moment in time they were aiming for, which happened to be at the place and moment in time we were in that break room.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “If I’m thinking about this correctly, Sealand must’ve tried to open up a wormhole to the past, but he most likely didn’t account for most of the gravity it would emit. The side of the wormhole on Sealand’s end snapped shut almost immediately, while the one on the other side stayed open just long enough for us to fall in. Once both sides collapsed, we couldn’t stay floating outside of the space-time continuum, not with us having mass and time and all that. You’re the smaller mass, Tino, so when you got separated from us, you were spat out ‘first.’ Mattie and I lasted a bit longer, but got thrown out, too.” I hummed. “In all honesty, it’s a miracle we landed on Earth at all.”

A long silence met my theory. I blinked, confused, as Mattie stared at me in disbelief, while Tino was openly gaping. I raised my eyebrows, lost.

“What?”

“You lost me after ‘wormhole,’” Mattie murmured, eyes wide. Tino still looked shell-shocked.

“H-how in the world…” he trailed off. I grinned.

“NASA,” I chirped back. “Too bad 60’s or 70’s me didn’t get thrown here. He probably would’ve figured out a way to explain things a lot better than I just did. Man, I was a nerd back then!”

“Why do you act like an idiot, then?” Tino asked, his gaze hardening. “Really, Alfred, half our colleagues are still in denial about you being a superpower! If you ever acted like you did right now, then—”

“They would see me as a threat,” I shot back. “Imagine if China saw this part of me. It’d be Cold War II before I could say ‘I mean no harm.’ I’m just fine with Mattie knowing, ‘cause well, you’re my bro, and the three of us are going to be working together for awhile, so hey, why not.”

“Wow, a lot of secrets and explanations are being told today,” Mattie remarked, only half sarcastically. “Should I say something?”

I burst into laughter, and Tino cracked a small smile.

“Well, what other the other nations think of you doesn’t exactly matter anymore, does it?” he sighed. “What am I doing? I’m just glad to see you again.”

I shot the nordic nation a sympathetic look. It must’ve been tough, to be alone in the future for so long. I tried to think about living without Mattie or Arthur or Kiku, or a version of them that was as unrecognizable as Feliciano, and couldn’t do it. 

Well, I’d have to fix things, the best way I knew how. 

Tino yelped as I latched onto him in a bear hug. “Alfred!” He cried, squirming in my grip. I could tell he was blushing. I chuckled. Mission get Tino to think about something else was a success!

~(...Uh, Alfred? That’s creepy.)~

~(You get used to it.)~

**~(I** **_had_ ** **to get used to it!)~**

~(Had to?)~

**~(Alfred doesn’t have much of a sense of personal space. Case in point, this instance.)~**

~(...I don’t get it.)~

~(Who ever gets what Alfred does?)~

_ ~(Hey!)~ _

~(Alright guys, I’m sorry I brought it up. Just forget about it, okay? We’re recording, here!)~

_ ~(Oh, right. That’s a thing.)~ _

So Tino found a way to get one of his arms loose, and elbowed me hard enough in the gut that I let him go. He rolled his eyes at me, annoyed, but the melancholy look he’d been sporting was gone.

“Anyways, it’s time we get going,” Tino announced, standing up and brushing himself off. “You need to meet the Commander, and I have to go back to my squad sooner or later.”

“Squad?” Mattie asked.

“What, do you think I’ve just been lying around feeling sorry for myself all this time?” Tino shot back, a smile taking the bite out of his word. “I work with a few of the ex-nations in the Survey Corps. Since I can’t die—I don’t know if you’ve figured it out, but we’re still attached to the 2007 versions of our nations—I’m pretty valuable.”

“No…” Mattie replied as Tino left the cart. I hopped out after him, and my brother followed. “But you have a squad of actual humans? I mean, aren’t nations supposed to be a secret?”

Tino shrugged. “Took me a while to get used to it, but honestly, what’s the point of secrecy? It’s not like we have actual nations or bosses anymore. Feliciano identifies his boss informally as the Commander of the Survey Corps, and my boss has been dead for at least over a century. We don’t really have rules anymore. But we generally take care not to be noticed too much outside of the military—the king hardly tolerates our presence as it is. In our community, however, we’re pretty well-known, though we don’t talk about how we’re different much. Besides, save for me, we aren’t really that different.”

“Because they aren’t actually nations anymore,” I agreed. “Like Prussia, right?”

“Right. They don’t age, and diseases don’t get deadly as far as I’ve seen, but they’re just as vulnerable to the titans as the rest of us. Anyways, we’re going to be heading back to Wall Rose soon, so I better get you two to Commander Erwin.” Tino stepped into the bustle of camp, beckoning us to follow. 

Slinging my bomber jacket over my shoulder, I did as he instructed. As I did so, I couldn’t help but wonder how exactly a wall was supposed to keep out the Titans, even if they were as strong as Feliciano had described. I mean—

~(So our listeners don’t get confused, Feliciano filled us in on the basics of the walls before Alfred ticked him off, before Tino arrived.)~

_ ~(I am perfectly capable of telling this story, you know)~ _

~( _ Sure. _ *Pause* Ow! Alfred!)~

~(Serves you right. Now for heaven’s sake, let me narrate!)~

I mean, how could they have constructed walls like that? And quickly enough that humanity was able to shelter from the titans? And if we really were in the UK, why hadn’t England made it?

There were a lot of questions, but Tino was already leaving, and I decided to hold off on them for the time being. Besides, watching the Survey Corps’ camp was really interesting. No one complained, no one slacked off, and they all moved as quickly as possible to get their jobs done. The camp itself looked to have been set up quickly, though, and I guess that made sense, because of the titans and all that.

Tino directed us a more deserted side of camp, and into one of the old homes. Inside, I saw three people standing in the living room, one side of which was stacked to the wall with crates.

The first person I saw was a woman, with reddish-brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She was talking vividly to the other two, hands waving in the hair as she spoke. She was facing me, and wore an odd pair of glasses that looked more like goggles.

The second was a man. A short man, who couldn’t have been taller than 5’2; I had at least a good half foot on him. He had short, pitch-black hair in a bowl cut, had sported a bored expression, watching the woman talk with small, beady eyes.

**~(*pffft!*)~**

~(*Hurried scrabbling and the sound of a door opening and slamming shut a few moments later. Soon afterwards you can hear the distant sounds of someone laughing.*)~

...The third was the tallest of the trio. He was facing away from us, and had a large stature and blonde toupee. 

~(Are you still going on about that?)~

_ ~(What? I don’t care what you guys say, he had a toupee!)~ _

~(His hair’s real, Alfred. Stop being ridiculous and narrate.)~

No. No one’s hair is always that neat. Anyways, both of the untoupeed people seemed to defer to the toupeed man, who was watching them intently. After a moment though, the lady noticed our entrance and grinned, waving at us. 

The toupeed man turned to face us, and I started.

“Are you British?” I asked, the words slipping out of my mouth before I could stop them . Mattie started, then hit me in the arm. Tino simply facepalmed.

The man raised one truly British eyebrow at me, and the woman’s expression clashed between excitement and wariness. The short guy made no movement besides flickering his gaze over to use, though his mood did seem to darken.

“Tino, who are those two?” the tallest man asked, stepping forwards.

“Oh, this is Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams,: the small Finn replied. “My companions. I’m sure you remember that conversation we had a year ago?”

The man blinked in surprise, and looked at Matties and I in surprise. “These are them?” He questioned. “You companions.”

Tino nodded. “They fell into the forest, where Feli and part of the Special Operations Squad ran into them and brought them here. They then got me, and I brought them to you. We need to get them to safety.”

The very obviously British man nodded, and extended his hand to me. I took it, surprised as to why he wasn’t questioning all of this.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jones,” he said. “Tino has told me of your situation. I’m glad that you’ve finally made your appearance.”

“Thanks,” I replied, slightly lost as the Brit shook with my brother.

“I’m Erwin Smith,” the man introduced himself. “Commander of the Survey Corps. This is Section Leader Hange Zoe.” He gestured to the Italian. “And Levi Ackerman, second-in-command of the Special Ops Squad.” He waved at the short man, and I nodded, Filing their names away for further use.

Behind Erwin, Hange seemed to inflate. She was out like a dart and on me in a second.

“So you’re really from the past? Like Tino? Are you immortal too?!” The questions seemed to flow from her mouth at a thousand words a second.

“Sure!” I replied, not really knowing what else to say. Honestly, I kinda liked her already. A bit eccentric, it seemed, but she seemed real. Stars danced in her eyes.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” She continued at her breakneck pace. “So you’re Americahn, right?”

“ _ American _ ,” I corrected her. “And yes, proudly the greatest country to exist since Rome?”

“Rome?” Hange echoed, before taking her hands in mine. “You must tell me everything!”

“I’d love to!”

Mattie groaned. “Great,” he said none-too-softly. “Now he has someone to encourage him.” I stuck out my tongue at him, earning an eye roll.

“So what’s that flying stuff you use?” I asked, turning back to Hange, motioning to her year. “”S 3D Manuevering Gear, right?”

“Yup!” Hange’s grin seemed, motioning to her gear. “Oo~, I have a lot to tell you! Honestly, we never thought you’d guys actually show up. I have to tell Mike, je thought Tino esd in insane and we had a bet going on about whether he was right—”

“Hey!” The subject of said bet protested.

“He owes me half of his meat allowance now! I can’t wait to tell ou about the titans, they are amazing! So fascinating! Did you know that the titans can regenerate every part of their body except for their nape? Or that their body temperature is over 70 degrees Celsius? Oh! Maybe we can experiment later, or—”

Suddenly, Hange’s rushed rant was cut as she was suddenly thrust to the ground. I jumped, caught by surprise to see the short guy, Levi, judo-flipping her over his shoulder and onto the ground. Somehow, he seemed even more pissed without giving a damn.

~(Then again, Levi always looks pissed.)~

“You’re doing it again,” he said softly, yet still pulling off that intimidating aura of his. “Next time, don’t go insane with potential recruits.”

“Sorry,” warbled up from the ground. Levi eyed Mattie and I.

“You’d better be hygienic,” he warned. “I will not tolerate having 3 Hange’s running around.” I blinked, astonished Erwin was just letting all this happen. Levi simply rolled his eyes before kicking the still-prone Hange. “Get up; you’re fine. We still have work to do.”

“Okay!” Hange replied cheerfully, sitting up with the same amount of energy as she had prior to getting knocked to the ground. Bouncing up, Hange waved at us as Levi dragged her away by the sleeve of her jacket.

A short silence followed the two’s departure. Tino coughed awkwardly.

“Sorry about that,” he apologised. “Hange is a bit… intense, and Levi is a germaphobe. But they’re two of the best soldiers we have.”

“I’m just astonished that it was allowed,” Mattie remarked. 

“They do their job, and they do it well,” Erwin put in, crossing his arms. 

I shrugged. “I dunno. I liked Hange.”

“Takes one to know one,” Mattie muttered. Tino groaned quietly.

“Well, we’ll get you to safety inside of Rose,” Erwin said, a smile quirking his lips. “From there, we can decide what to do with the two of you.”

“I’ll take them back to the carts, sir,” Tino offered. “I just wanted to let you know what was going on. Would you mind if I had Isabel watch them? I have a feeling they would get along just fine.”

“She can fill them in on any questions,” Erwin agreed. “We’ll be heading back soon, so I have to excuse myself.” He nodded to Mattie and I. “Pleasure to meet both of you. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again.”

* * *

The ride back to the Walls—Wall Rose, Feliciano had told me; evidently we were still inside the outermost Wall, Wall Maria, which had fallen to the titans three years ago—was mostly uneventful. Isabel, the Special Ops member who had been assigned to us, was fun to hang out with, and freely answered most of our questions about the “future.” 

To be honest, it was difficult to believe that we were in the future. It was just… so different than everything I was used to. If it weren’t for Feliciano having been the one to find and talk to me, I wouldn’t have believed it at all. An alternate universe sounded more probable. Three 50-meter walls, hundreds of kilometers long, had been built to keep out some monsters a good nuke could take care of. Sure, the climate was similar to England, and so was the terrain, but I seriously doubted that the trees Mattie and I had landed in had evolved in our absence.

But I kept those questions to myself. Isabel couldn’t answer my questions, Tino was out with his team, and to be honest, Feliciano scared me. 

Every once in a while, we’d spot differently colored flares would erupt on the horizon, which Isabel was more than happy to explain. It was pretty ingenious in the absence of the radio. Each flare was used to signal scouts out of sight in the formation—green, indicating a change in direction, was the most common. 

Evidently, the Survey Corps had been on an outing to restock supplies in unmanned bases outside of Wall Rose. The forest Mattie and I had been their last stop, and now they were on their way home. They were about three hours from Wall Rose when we had showed up. Things were quiet for us; though a good portion of the Corps would at least see a titan on the way home, we were in the cent of the formation, safely tucked away from even the fastest of Titans.

Those thoughts safely occupied me for most of the ride, until I finally remembered a detail that had bothered me when I’d first met Isabel.

“Hey, Isabel?” I asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the cart. I was sitting by a set of rattling gas tanks, Mattie on my other side.

“Mmhm?” the redhead hummed from her place opposite us, her eyes concentrated on her hands, which were polishing her razor-sharp blades. 

“Your last name is Honda, right?” I received a nod in affirmation. “Are you related to or know a Kiku Honda, by chance?”

Isabel stopped cleaning her swords and looked up at us, surprised, but didn’t immediately answer as Mattie and I waited for her reply. After all, she looked nothing like Japan, perhaps for their similar height and build. 

“Well, yeah, I guess,” she finally replied with a small smile. “My brother’s raised me ever since I was little, when he took me off the streets. He used to be my dad, but it got kinda awkward when I got older, since he’s like Feliciano and doesn’t exactly age.”

We laughed briefly. Obviously, Isabel was in her mid-to-late twenties, just a few years younger than Kiku’s 30, if he hadn’t aged much in the last century. 

“He took you in? Why?” Mattie asked. Isabel shrugged. 

“I grew up in the Underground City, this city situated in this huge underground cavern in Wall Sina. It’s basically the ghetto, where all the thieves and criminals end up.” Another green flare arced into the sky, and she turned to watch it, the driver of our cart turning with it. “I don’t know who my parents were; my first memories were stealing some food. When I was seven I tried to pickpocket Levi.” She chuckled. “You don’t know him, but he’s basically the best soldier the Survey Corps has nowadays. So, uh, it didn’t exactly go well. He caught me, of course, and flipped me over his shoulder and tried to kill me. Somehow I got him to talk for a little bit, ‘cause I’ll be the first one to say that I’m an idiot who doesn’t know when to not run her mouth, and Kiku came across us. He’d taken in Levi a year or so earlier, and for some reason he decided the best way to deal with me was to take me home for dinner. And then I never left.”

“How’d you get to the Corps?” Mattie questioned.

“The Corps recruited us. The former commander sent Erwin Smith and Feliciano Vargas after us after hearing about some of our escapades in the city. Apparently Feli and Kiku have a history that they won’t ever talk about, so when Feli asked, Kiku took us up to the surface with hardly a protest. We joined the Corps five years ago, and, well, the rest is history.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” I mused. “They were really close in my time.”

“And that’s about all he says.” Isabel returned her attention to her swords, beginning to scrub at a particular spot. “Wonder what happened in the meantime. They both ended up in very different places.”

A silence lapsed for a couple minutes after that. Isabel continued to polish her gear, while Mattie and I started on a game of rock-paper-scissors. 

After a bit, a large “ _ boom! _ ” shook the ground. Startled, I fell backwards, while Mattie let out a squeak in surprise and Isabel’s head whipped to the side to face the front opening of the wagon.

“What in the world was that?” I exclaimed. “It almost sounded like—”

“—Cannon fire,” Mattie finished. “I haven’t heard fire like that in years.”

Isabel stood up, peeking out of the canvas of the wagon. “Just as I thought!” She announced, right as another boom sounded, this time further away than the first one. Glancing back at us, the redhead grinned, waving us over. “Come on! We’re home!” 

Biting back the remark that my home was actually across the Atlantic ocean and a century in the past, I followed Isabel’s example and peeked over her shoulder, getting my first look at “the walls.”

And gasped.

“Walls” was an understatement.

Isabel’s home was a fortress. A huge, solid stone wall loomed hundreds of feet in the air, blotting out a good portion of the sky. The woman in question smiled even wider at our reaction. 

“Welcome to Wall Rose,” She announced. “Home to over a million people, and the last bastion of humanity.”


End file.
